


Swan song

by hypsoline



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Fluff and Smut, First Time, Frottage, Get Together, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypsoline/pseuds/hypsoline
Summary: "It was the music your body made that made me want to be your coach."Yuuri and Viktor stay up late one night, and Yuuri realizes how much they have grown closer. And soon he realizes other things, things that Viktor may or not already have known. They say the cold brings people closer, but so does alcohol, and this day, it was either all of them at once or none."What do you want me to be to you? A father figure? A brother? A friend? A lover?"





	

 

There is nothing to celebrate, another day of training, plans and half written notes on Viktor’s banquet room lie forgotten, in the midst of Viktor’s discovery of sake. He usually holds his drinking well, passes out on his fluffy dog, on the mattress and Yuuri covers him as he leaves.

 

But today is not like other days.

 

Yuuri feels the tension in the air, the one that calls for complementary personal talking and he too has had something to drink. To warm him up more than Viktor already does is impossible for any alcohol though. And maybe Viktor knows this. He is experienced and very patient. He lays on his back, his yukata half open as he takes another sip, laughs at another Russian joke the language barrier between them makes it impossible for Yuuri to fully grasp. Yuuri laughs politely and wishes he had something else to concentrate on.

Viktor keeps on speaking, his moves are elegant not sloppy like all other foreigners and Japanese men after such an amount of drinking. Has Yuuri ever seen Viktor being ungraceful? Snarky, sarcastic but never mean spirited. Even when he knocks himself out drinking his grace is always there, calculated after years of ice skating, molded into perfection. How can anyone possibly surpass him, the man is even bigger than the legend especially this up close.

Yuuri finds himself observing Viktor’s body and his ears turn red. He turns away, takes a sip, the liquid burning at his nostrils. He never really liked this stuff, but he grew at an inn, he can handle it, he thinks.

“Your--ahem your yukata is coming undone.” He musters. Viktor smiles, sipping again, “Oh I know. But it’s too hot and I sleep in the nude.”

Yuuri isn’t at all surprised. He flexes his muscles, his whole body tense from practice now relaxed with the hot water springs and the steam like a balm.

He has seen naked men all his life. He has seen Viktor naked countless of times. But something about a half open yukata today, is itching at him. The charade of seeing and not, covering barely there. Was it the sake? Was it the long trip home they took by the sea, talking about things Yuuri never expected a god like Viktor to feel or to say to him, a mere human? Was it the new jump he managed during practice that gave him a confidence boost and made Viktor hug him and get him sake for tonight? Or was it just Yuuri himself.

Viktor drinks, he toasts. His fluffy dog lays lazily on top of the bed as if it were his, where it smells of his master.

Viktor has been more open than ever to him yet Yuuri can’t grasp it; Viktor is still a mystery to him. Now that he has been out of the public eye and doesn’t carry the burden of the athletic responsabilities it is Yuuri who does. But it’s not the same. Polite and controlled Viktor, always with a smile and a kiss for the camera and his fans, smiling at the camera, looking at a young Yuuri from his posters and memorabilia; his blue wink and soft gaze cheering him on. On all his lessons, to lose himself to the ice. But it was so difficult to prove himself with others watching. Even after years and years of poise training with Minako-sensei and long sessions of skating with Celestino-san all the way in America.

Did he really evolve anything at all?

Yuuri’s mind always went back to Viktor, once, twice, he lost count. He kept up with his career until then and how did he do it? Most had had their prime season over and he was the star that always shone in the sky. And there he was, human as he, drunk as hell, on his _banquet-room-turned-guest-room_ for the great Viktor Nikiforov.

 

_You’re not weak Yuuri._

 

Yuuri’s knuckles clench and he feels his eyes sting with tears. The sake is getting to him.

 

_What do you want me to be to you? A father figure? A brother? A friend? A lover?_

 

Some of his mates back in Denver had bet on Viktor’s sexuality once but that kind of information was off limits for someone as pure as Yuuri, they said, so they taunted him with remarks and laughs. Westerners are so open, thought Yuuri, and that was a good thing, even if he himself didn’t want to be noticed. He blushes again at the memory, he missed Denver sometimes, but he was older now, and this would be his last season.

Viktor looks so relaxed off cameras, and Yuuri is reminded with a knot at his stomach that this isn’t Russia, as famous as he is, Japanese paparazzi have left the nature of their relationship intact and open to fan speculation. Viktor sighs, his fingers grace his silver hair and trap a lock behind his ear. He closes his eyes and rubs his reddened face, massaging. He is at his prime and yet he knows his career is close to the end. It’s rare for a figure skater to make it past twenty-five. Their bodies start giving out, under pressure. Bruises and accidents are more common. How does Viktor do it? Or if there something Viktor has healed long ago, but doesn’t want Yuuri to know? His body is smooth and intact at a first glance, every right muscle toned and cared for, sculptured meticulously for figure skating-- and Yuuri’s glasses nearly drop off his nose once he realized Viktor is staring back at him with a smile.

 

Viktor is proud of his body and is used to Yuuri's skirmish and prudish manners, even if he has seen an other side to him. A side Yuuri has kept quiet all his life and finally admits, step by step, and painfully. But Viktor is patient and Yuuri is hardworking. A diamond in the rough.

 

At this hour and under this much sake, Yuuri would have been asleep by now. The house is quiet and so are they, listening to each other’s breathing, growing comfortable in each others’ silences. He can’t close his eyes or look away.  Yuuri thinks of the Grand Prix, of all the tournaments he will face, friends and foes alike, it excites him at the pit of his belly and it dawns on him what it all must mean to Viktor, to see the younger generation eventually surpass and take the place that was once his. They lock eyes

Viktor always full of surprises. The king of ice, the prince of snow, his hair impeccable under the lights, his choreography seamless, his costumes glinting like stars; far away. But up close his skin is so warm and tender, old bruises and thin platinum hair, still damp from the baths.

 

Yuuri has never been kissed before. He never imagined this moment ever. Not when he was eight or sixteen or now at twenty three, to kiss Viktor, soft lips reeking of sake. Viktor.

Blame it on the steam and the push from training, blame it on Viktor’s odd foreign manners, blame it on his bruises in need of care, making his muscles hard and hot. But it’s none of those and it’s not the alcohol either burning at their stomachs as it snows outside. It’s something else on this day, as Yuuri trembles under Viktor’s touches.

And Viktor lays down softly, his yukata green and open as a mantle, like a present coming undone. He is naked and waiting patiently for Yuuri if Yuuri so wishes. He is patient and his blue eyes dreamy. He looks so happy.

Yuuri feels inbalanced, dizzy; this is a dream, a vision, and he is expecting orders from his coach, even at a time like this.

 

_No one really knows what your true eros looks like._

 

Until his performance he didn’t know it either. He remembers Viktor saying as he lays there, with Yuuri’s legs straddling him.

The words like an enchantment as Viktor places his white hand above Yuuri's heart, his own yukata coming undone, his body giving himself away. He feels more naked than he ever felt in his whole life. Half hard and half drunk, blushing at all the right places as Viktor caresses his cheek.

They too has been exposed. Viktor, mysterious and beautiful Viktor, knows more about Yuuri than Yuuri lets himself be known.

 Viktor pets his dark hair back, slick like last time.

“We aren't alike, that's what is surprising to me about you.”, a murmur and Yuuri’s heart shatters only to beat even louder.

“Even when you copied me on that silly video. I was expecting to see a brilliant young man already, but not—you, your moves."

 

_It was the music your body made that made me want to be your coach._

 

Viktor ceases speaking, he is breathing with his mouth now as aroused as he is, still expecting Yuuri to leave like always. His touches had always been a bit too much on him. But Yuuri grew into it, accepting, responding; his very advance to Viktor so natural and yet so timid. He barely believed Yuuri can think of himself as a sexual being, as he didn't even think of himself as strong or good at ice skating before, until _eros_ and Yuuri’s twist on the story.

Will Yuuri’s prophecy become true? Will Viktor stay with him after all his over?

"Why is it so hard for you to see Yuuri,", the silence broken "That you are not weak, you are hardworking and talent is made, sculpted by our own hands. You deserve happiness."

Yuuri know feels his eyes completely watery, he sobs into his yukata sleeve. “I’m s-sorry.”

"The ice isn't all you've got. You think it is because it is where you feel most like yourself like you are, but you've got your family, your friends. Japan has got your back Yuuri.” Another sob, “And you have got me now."

 Yuuri buries his wet face on Viktor's chest.

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry! And please s-stop. Don't feel pity for me. I barely believe you gave me a chance. We are both drunk."

"Give a chance to yourself Yuuri", he holds him closer, still brushing at Yuuri’s bangs.

"Yuuri we are not alike, because if we were I had nothing to teach you and you had nothing to teach me."

Yuuri's grip tightens, he wants to jump away, to run and leave Viktor naked and drunk on the floor, close the door to his room and forget this ever happened. But today, tonight that isn’t happening.

Viktor loves surprising. He has made it his career, to be charming, seductive and a prince, an illusion of an ethereal being on ice. But it is Yuuri who kisses him next, his hair slicked back, his confidence back in between the tears.

 

Yuuri loses himself to Viktor. All of him. like dancing on ice, he becomes someone else, but the story is about them this time.

There is no cold, no cheers no crowd. "On my love" isn't a metaphor to be played and danced to, he pushes into Viktor and he moans softly. They rub at each other and Viktor is inviting and tempting, kisses Yuuri’s temple and forehead, one hand guiding Yuuri’s own, coaching him even now.

Viktor has had many lovers, whereas Yuuri has had none. His heart is unwritten, unbroken, untied; it has long been promised to one and one only.

Yuuri lets himself come undone under Viktor's touch, lets himself kiss him again and stays close like a sinking man, holding on to Viktor as he comes too with a sigh.

He forgets about the Grand Prix, he even forgets about skating. When Yuuri progresses Viktor is there to wait for him. They have met at the middle and he is not less or more talented when Viktor is around. But he has been able to see, a squint of his true potential, of his true self. And today, tonight was just a normal day. But every day they grew together made him stronger.

 

_No one really knows your true eros._

 

Viktor is tracking Yuuri’s back with his fingers. He is a kind lover even in a drunk post-coital stupor, not that Yuuri really knows what a lover is supposed to be like. He wonders how many kinds of love has Viktor experienced before, from whom, but he is afraid of such knowledge. Not today, not tonight. Someday maybe Viktor will tell him all about it. A day when Yuuri’s chest isn’t hurting and a migraine announcing itself from the booze.

He opens his eyes, his eyelashes had stuck closed together with the heat and the tears. Yuuri realizes they have been rubbing themselves slowly on each other even after cumming and feels pathetic, virginal.

Viktor on his part, chuckles like a schoolboy looking at his legs and torso, at their bodies standing apart and the heat diverging around them like smoke.

“Oh… You are full of surprises Yuuri…”

"S-sorry!! I-i have to get up and clean this mess—oh I am so sorry! W-we are still training tomorrow right?"

"But of course, were you expecting a holiday or me leaving? I already told you I would train you."

Yuuri blushes harder. "It’s just that, I don't want to oversleep...", he is fidgeting with his yukata robe, tying a knot quickly as he lowers his face to the tatami floor, his bangs coming to cover his forehead again. He feels a touch on his trembling hands and stops, he breathes in and lets those blue eyes calm him down again.

"Stay here then. Sleep with me. I will wake you with a kiss." his voice is breathless and is tone joking but Viktor's eyes are kind and loving and sincere.

Yuuri sniffles at his Yukata sleeve again. Viktor is still undressed and undressed he stays as he gets up, swats gently at Makkachin to occupy the foot of the bed instead.

Yuuri follows him.

 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Viktor doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the night. He holds Yuuri’s arm close and Yuuri doesn’t bother to shake him off, afraid of contact.

Not today, not tonight, not ever.

 

And for the first time, Yuuri stays.

 

 

 


End file.
